


Holiday Ficathon (2) Conference Wives AU

by dance_the_code



Series: Conference Wives [10]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Hanukkah, M/M, New Years, Sick Dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7229188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_the_code/pseuds/dance_the_code
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Conference Wives/Christmas Fic</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Conference Wives/Christmas Fic

Title: Care Packages  
Disclaimer – if you recognize it, tis not mine  
Characters: Ian/Charlie and assorted retired Marines – they’re not as lean, they’re not as mean, but hell, they’re still Marines!  
Note: Conference Wives/Christmas Fic  
Word count: 526

Charlie was certain he remembered something about this, but he wasn’t really sure what it was.

The driveway was filled with cars, the street was filled with cars and there was someone he didn’t know handing out some kind of assignments on his front porch.

“You here to help?” The man was gruff and Charlie wasn’t certain if it was because he didn’t look helpful or if he just looked confused.

“Ummm, probably…have you seen Ian?” Charlie looked around to see if he could spot the sniper.

“Which Ian? I know lots of Ians. Lost a few Ians too in my day are you helping or not?”

“Yes, yes I am helping, what am I doing?”

“A whole lot of nothing at the moment, you’re a scrawny thing… you serve?”

“Serve?”

“Okay civilian, get inside and find the lieutenant, he’ll whip you into shape.”

Charlie entered the craftsman with apprehension and foreboding. “Ian?”

A shout resounded from the kitchen. “Which Ian?”

“Ian Edgerton?”

“He was in the kitchen a minute ago, had to go prevent some old leatherneck from putting playboys in the packages in the upstairs hall!”

Another voice responded. “Hey, they may be young’uns over there, but hell, they’re still Marines, it’s not like I was trying to put hookers in the boxes! Can’t figure out why the Lieutenant got his balls in a twist over that one.”

A third disembodied voice joined the conversation. “He took up with a civilian, what do you expect?”

The first voice hollered back from the kitchen. “Hey, nothing wrong with fucking a civilian, lieutenant’s happy, leave him alone.”

Ian shouted from the stairs. “Less bullshit, more packing, the truck will be here in less than an hour!”

Charlie started up the stairs. “Ian? Can you remind me what it is that you said you were doing today?”

Ian peered over the railing of the stairs. “Charlie! You are supposed to be at CalSci…” Ian turned on his heel. “Gunny! Shove a blanket over the presents in the office!”

“Sir yessir!”

“Ummm…I remember you saying something about friends coming over to fill care packages, but I think I forgot to ask how many of each…” Charlie started counting boxes.

“Friends…well, there’s about thirty here at the moment and care packages…well, I think we planned on filling about five or six hundred… for Christmas…in Iraq…”

Charlie smiled. “I think I will stay out of the way and order pizza for everyone, since I don’t think the guys in the kitchen were cooking anything.”

Ian nodded. “They are passing the filled boxes out the back door so that there’s room to maneuver.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay, now, Ian…where’s Isaac?”

“Hanukkah shopping with Don and Cooper.” Ian supplied quickly.

Charlie patted Ian’s shoulder. “That’s fine, as long as he wasn’t packed in someone’s care package everything is okay.”

Charlie scampered down the steps to the center of the labyrinth of boxes in the family room.

“Okay, what do you want on your pizzas?” He happily wrote down the variety of combinations that were shouted from around the house and calculated the number of pizzas and combinations necessary to feed thirty hungry marines.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conference Wives/Christmas Fic

Title: Blind Tetris  
Disclaimer – if you recognize it, tis not mine  
Characters: Charlie, Larry, Isaac  
Note: Conference Wives/Christmas Fic  
Word count: 474

Larry entered the garage carefully as the sounds emanating from the back were strange, if not disturbing.

Plunk, plunk, plunk  
“Jesus, fucking, son of a….damn it….what the fuck!!!”  
Plunk, plunk, plunk  
Giggle

Larry peered around the corner to where Charles was cursing at….. a knit sock?

“Charles? What on earth are you doing?”

Charlie looked at Larry plaintively. Isaac giggled from where he sat on the desk next to a large jar of marbles.

“I am filling Ian’s Christmas stocking, we can’t get to his family’s Christmas this year because of the case he’s working on. His mother sent me the stockings from last year.”

“You seem to be in a great deal of distress.”

“Larry, look at the board.” Charlie pointed to the chalkboard behind him. “According to my calculations, the volume of this stocking is x and the amount of gifts that one can out into the stocking is y.”

“Yes Charles, I follow.”

“Unfortunately that is as much as math can seem to help me here, because inside this,” Charlie shook the stocking biting back a myriad of possible curses “there are all these little tendrils of string that seek to prevent the gifts,” he gestured to a small pile of presents on the top of the desk next to Isaac and the marbles “from being put into the stocking.”

Larry pondered this a moment. “Can you cut the strings?”

Charlie shook his head. “Only if I want to watch the stocking dissolve into a pile of string.”

Larry nodded. “Not optimal.”

Charlie shook his head. “No…the only thing I can compare this to is trying to play a non-computerized version of Tetris blindfolded with an octopus as an opponent.”

Larry pondered. “What if you turned the stocking inside out so that the strings that are causing the problem are on the outside?”

Charlie looked at Larry a long moment. “Larry, you’re brilliant!”

Larry smiled. “So I have been told Charles, now what are the marbles for?”

Charlie looked sheepish as he stuffed the inside out stocking. “I gave it to Eva after Isaac was old enough to repeat what he heard, she cursed like a sailor, so in an effort to stop she put a marble in the jar for every swear word and when the jar was full Isaac gets a treat.”

Larry examined the jar. “Did it work?”

“She went through six jars, broke more than one throwing the entire bag of marbles at it in a preemptive strike before the cursing started and Isaac could almost expect t a treat a week, unless it was a bad week, I think the record was four.”

Larry picked up the jar and examined it for a moment. “So, it did and it did not work.”

Charlie nodded, holding up the stuffed stocking for Isaac’s approval. “Like many things, Larry.”


	3. Hanukkah is hard work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conference Wives/Hanukkah Fic

Title: Hanukkah is hard work  
Disclaimer – if you recognize it, tis not mine  
Characters: Ian/Charlie , Don/Cooper, Isaac  
Note: Conference Wives/Hanukkah Fic  
Word count: 383

“Okay, kid, what is it you want me to do?” Cooper followed Isaac from the front door into the kitchen.

“You needs to drink the maccabeer and peel some potatoes.” Isaac scrambled to the fridge.

Cooper stopped in the doorway. “Did I hear you right? You want me to drink beer and peel potatoes?”

Isaac turned around and looked up at him. “MmHmmm. Thas what you’re gonna do.”

Cooper shrugged. “Okay, kid, where’s the beer?”

“In the frideterator on the top shelf.” Cooper walked over to the fridge and acquired two beers. “Eppes can have one too, right?”

“Nope. Agen Don can’t have a maccabeer until the latkes are ready.”

Don smiled from the doorway. “And why is that, Buddy?”

“Because you has to play with the hot oil.” Isaac pointed at the pan on the stove and the bottle of oil sitting next to it.

“I do, do I?”

“Yep, because daddy and Merlin already took care of the brisket and the applesauce and the dessert, so all you has to do is make the latkes.”

Cooper settled in to a kitchen chair with the potato peeler and looked at Issac. “Where are daddy and Merlin?”

“In the shower getting the applesauce and the dessert out of daddy’s hair.”

Don smirked as he walked over to take a beer from Cooper. “I think I can have one beer while we wait for your daddy and Merlin. I’ll help Coop with the potatoes.”

“Okay, but you’re not supposed to drink and fry.”

Don nodded at the sage looking mini-Charlie. “I know, buddy. Now…how did applesauce and dessert end up in daddy’s hair?”

“Merlin is not very good at giving directions involving kitchen appliances. The blender and the mixer were both very mean to daddy.”

Cooper bit back a chuckle as Ian walked into the kitchen.

Don smirked. “Have fun getting Charlie cleaned up?”

Ian took a beer off the top shelf. “Yes, actually…well worth cleaning the applesauce off the ceiling.”

Isaac looked up at Ian. “Where’s daddy?”

Ian smiled. “Taking a nap, it took a lot of hard work to get all the applesauce and batter out of his hair.”

Isaac pouted. “But he’ll miss the first night of Hanukkah.”

Cooper chuckled. “Don’t worry, kid, we’ll wake him when the latkes are done.”


	4. Make that a trip to the vet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conference Wives/Hanukkah Fic

Title: Make that a trip to the vet  
Disclaimer – if you recognize it, tis not mine  
Characters: Ian/Charlie , Don/Cooper, Isaac, Smith and Wesson  
Note: Conference Wives/Hanukkah Fic  
Note 2: Happy belated holidays (all of them) – watch your pets…  
Word count: 231

 

Charlie looked at the menorah for several moments before he realized what was wrong with it.

It was missing candles.

Charlie looked around and found that other things were missing from the table.

The stack of chocolate coins was reduced to an odd, mass of wet gold foil.

The driedel that Eva’s brothers brought back from Israel was suspiciously absent.

The applesauce was dripping onto the floor and the ears of the sorrowful culprits of the Hanukkah mayhem.

“Ian! Start the car!” Charlie scrambled to drag the sick dogs out to the front yard before they could get sicker.

Don and Cooper looked at Isaac and then stepped out into the dining room.

Cooper surveyed the mess. “Oooh…yeah…bad doggies.”

Don shook his head. “Yeah, double trouble. Okay, Isaac… how about we work on those latkes while Uncle Cooper cleans up the mess.”

Don scooped Isaac up and walked back into the kitchen.

Cooper looked at the mess, then back at the closing kitchen door. “How did I get stuck with this? They’re Edgerton’s dogs!”

Don chuckled from the doorway as he brought out a broom and dustpan. “Ian is driving the dogs to the animal hospital, Charlie is going with him and I don’t think we want Isaac in the middle of this mess, right?”

Cooper nodded. “Yeah…yuck. Is there a mop too? That applesauce is not going to sweep up.”


	5. dance_the_code

Midnight Mass for the Dying Year by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  
Pondering and slash by: Dance_the_code  
Pairings: Ian/Charlie, David/Colby, Don/Cooper, Megan/Larry  
Don’t own the characters, not part of the Longfellow estate, etc, etc  
Rating: PG-13

Yes, the Year is growing old,  
And his eye is pale and bleared!  
Death, with frosty hand and cold,  
Plucks the old man by the beard,  
Sorely, sorely!

Ian looked in on Isaac before wandering down the hall. What a year. Smith and Wesson looked up from their spots on the little one’s bed. Tails wagged, slow, lazy, happy to see you, we’re not moving, we’re not disturbing the puppy’s sleep. Ian smiled and softly stepped into the room. Isaac was tucked in, Charlie had read him a story already. 3.14159 was clutched tight. Everything was right in the world. Outside of this house anything could happen, but here it was sweetness and light, peace on earth. What in the world had he done to deserve it?

The leaves are falling, falling,  
Solemnly and slow;  
Caw! caw! the rooks are calling,  
It is a sound of woe,  
A sound of woe!

Larry took down the last of the Newtonmas decorations as he listened to Megan’s voicemail message for the hundredth time. Violence and fear, trouble and danger, criminals… late for dinner. It was good she was going to be late for dinner. He had forgotten that dinner was something that was necessary this evening. He pondered what he would fix or should he order something. She would be home sooner now. He folded the sheets and went in search of a take out menu.

Through woods and mountain passes  
The winds, like anthems, roll;  
They are chanting solemn masses,  
Singing, "Pray for this poor soul,  
Pray, pray!"

It was anger and fear and a kiss so brutal he knew his lips would ache for days. The back of his head was tender from where David had pulled his hair. Stupid, he was really dumb sometimes and David would not let him forget it and David would not let him leave. It was forgiveness and pain. It was going to be alright. They would be alright. It would be them against the world if necessary, but it was still them.

And the hooded clouds, like friars,  
Tell their beads in drops of rain,  
And patter their doleful prayers;  
But their prayers are all in vain,  
All in vain!

Don collapsed against him, tired and spent and grinning like an idiot. Who needed to chase fugitives when you could have sex this good? Cooper stroked those hard lines and the soft hair, almost too long, but what the hell. Didn’t matter. The world spun him around a few times too many this year, but he had Don, Don not Eppes, a ring and a shared address. Casual, no ceremonies, no nonsense, but them. Cooper grinned and leaned up to nibble Don’s neck. “My turn, s’not midnight yet.”

There he stands in the foul weather,  
The foolish, fond Old Year,  
Crowned with wild flowers and with heather,  
Like weak, despised Lear,  
A king, a king!

Charlie fussed with the equations that danced like moths across the chalkboard. A few more minutes, Ian would be home soon and they would have some time alone. The surveillance Ian had installed in Isaac’s room would tell him if Isaac awoke and he would go back in, but the math, temptation, addiction, desperation. He hoped Ian would be in the mood. He needed out of his head. He needed Ian, hard and deep and chasing the math away, so he could sleep, so he could be just Charlie for a while. He turned away from the board, hearing footsteps over the audio surveillance, but no dog noises. Ian was checking on Isaac. Time to go in.

Then comes the summer-like day,  
Bids the old man rejoice!  
His joy! his last! O, the man gray  
Loveth that ever-soft voice,  
Gentle and low.

Megan met the delivery guy in the driveway. She smiled, paid the bill and brought the food in with her, stripping the day from her body with every step. She followed the sound of cabinets being searched in the kitchen and dropped the food on the counter to pounce upon her physicist. They kissed and all the reasons she was late vanished into the past, tendrils of time that wouldn’t matter tomorrow or the day after and certainly not at this moment. This pure and simple moment.

To the crimson woods he saith,  
To the voice gentle and low  
Of the soft air, like a daughter's breath,  
"Pray do not mock me so!  
Do not laugh at me!"

David clings, tightens his grip a little more every second that Colby sleeps. He can’t let go, he can’t loose him. A life raft, a vine, a twig, a safety net… all about to be taken away. His, his, his, damn it. Colby shifts awake and they kiss, Colby tastes the desperation and knows. He knows. It doesn’t matter, he won’t leave. He can’t leave. He feels the same, the same and guilty. They are one and will be okay. It’s better when the sun rises, but in the night they remember too many other nights, sleeping next to the stranger that looked exactly like their beloved. No more undercover work. Never again. No matter what anyone says. He has too much to loose.

And now the sweet day is dead;  
Cold in his arms it lies;  
No stain from its breath is spread  
Over the glassy skies,  
No mist or stain!

Don screams himself hoarse, just in a good way. Cooper, Cooper, Cooper, decades of finesse for one everlasting moment. He claws the bed and then it’s a snow storm in LA. Feathers everywhere and they laugh. Feathers and lube and bodily fluid and they have that sick thought of what crime scene techs would think and then they laugh more, seeing the dark humor on each other’s faces, right there behind the eyes and then the feathers are in their hair, their mouths and attached to things that shouldn’t be feathered. Cooper falls off the bed and continues to laugh. “Come on, Don…” and he pauses because it’s always strange in his ears. “Guest bedroom’s clean.”

Then, too, the Old Year dieth,  
And the forests utter a moan,  
Like the voice of one who crieth  
In the wilderness alone,  
"Vex not his ghost!"

Ian catches Charlie coming in the backdoor. Not repentant, not guilty, just lightly dusted with chalk and hungry. Not for food, though. That deep hunger, the one he knows well, the one that crops up when he watches the professor deep in thought and aware of nothing but the math, the one that taps him on the shoulder when Charlie reaches for him and presses his forehead into the hollow of his shoulder, where the gun belongs. Ian lifts Charlie onto the top of his combat boots and kisses him, promises, lip to lip, that no matter how far the math takes him, he will always come for him. Always. Semper Fi.

Then comes, with an awful roar,  
Gathering and sounding on,  
The storm-wind from Labrador,  
The wind Euroclydon,  
The storm-wind!

The food is cold now, Megan smiles sheepish and Larry shakes his head and ponders the microwave. They eat it cold and don’t care, sitting on the kitchen floor, his jacket will never be the same and her sweater might be under the refrigerator, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll take the sweater to the cleaners in the morning and he’ll forget and wear the jacket anyway, tears and stains will only remind him of what he knows, that there is no more beautiful nebula than theirs, that moment, all bright light and colors dancing on the edges. Deep and forever.

Howl! howl! and from the forest  
Sweep the red leaves away!  
Would, the sins that thou abhorrest,  
O Soul! could thus decay,  
And be swept away!  
For there shall come a mightier blast,  
There shall be a darker day;

 

They talk, sort’ve. They start to talk and end up pledging deep and meaningful allegiances and kisses even deeper. They turn off the phones and set the answering machine to pick up immediately without volume. They forget the world, they ignore the world. Just the two of them, David and Colby, no more outside influences, no secrets, no nonsense. Just them. Flesh on flesh, cradling with a fierceness that will protect. There will be other assignments, other times when they have to lie, when they have to ignore and forget this. But for now, there is this, and them and a sense of where they will return to, every time, no matter what.

And the stars, from heaven down-cast  
Like red leaves be swept away!  
Kyrie, eleyson!  
Christe, eleyson!

They will need to call a plumber. The feathers did not wash off as easily as they should have and if Cooper laughs the next time he pulls one off Don’s ass, Don will not be held responsible for the mayhem that will follow. So what if they can’t manage perfect. Perfect is overrated. Today, tomorrow, the day after, years after, they’ll still fuck shit up and that will be fine. They don’t get mushy about it, but they both know. This year, next year… love is forever, love never gives up, love is all that matters, even if you don’t give a voice to it. Cooper pours the beers into glasses, toasts need a little bit of fancy.

“Here’s to us, Don Eppes. Here’s to your brother and his sniper God, Reeves and her physicist, David and Colby and all their problems. May we all make it or die trying. Happy new year.”


End file.
